Page 147 of Callan

She wears nice clothes––a green coat, a cream scarf, polished shoes and a cute hat.

Noticing the direction of my gaze, she explains herself.

“I’m going to my best friend’s house,” she says.

“Good for you.”

I drag my eyes over the table.

“Thank you for everything,” I murmur. “I don’t need anything else these days, so take some time off,” I add while she looks at me, ready to step out.

“Okay. I will,” she says, waving at me.

The noise of her car vanishes away when I turn around and pour myself a cup of coffee. The hot drink coats the ceiling of my mouth when I slide into a bar stool and prop my elbows on the kitchen counter.

My phone sits in front of me, but I have zero interest in checking my messages.

Indulging in my drink, I go back to last night, reliving some of the moments I had with Mackenzie.

Sometimes, life is not so much about what you want.

It’s about what you can get.

It’s been a while since I allowed myself to enjoy a woman without creating a hollow of indifference around me so she could never have a reason to stay.

There is something about Mackenzie, and it’s about more than liking how her hair moves across my chest when I take her from behind or how soft her lips feel against mine.

She interacts out of a place of honesty. And she’s willing to take a risk and simply enjoy me.

Perhaps a little voice inside her head told her it was for the better.

Being myself without having to tell her everything about my life is also a nice aspect of this story.

I can still feel the softness of her touch, the smoothness of her skin, and the warmth of her smile.

She lay next to me, unassuming and happy.

Maybe that’s what it is.Maybe that’s her power.

All my life, I’ve been told I needed to win, so my power has been forged in brutality and implacable decisiveness.

I can’t forget who I am, or I’ll be dead.

Yet it almost happened in my bedroom last night.

I slipped away from my life and simply enjoyed a woman for a few hours.

Her lean valleys, her tight curves, and her satisfied moans. Her lips pressed against mine, her arms looped around my torso.

Her asking for more.

Her strength was like a blooming flower.

A meteor shower.

It came with dying lights and moving shadows.

She was tired, sweaty, grinning.

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